Just Say (Hell) No (Escape to New Zealand Book 11)

by Rosalind James

  “School still hard, then?” Marko asked, rolling the dice. “Bugger.”

  Ella interpreted that correctly. “Park Place. Five hundred dollars, please.” She waggled her fingers. “I’m so skunking you.”

  Marko paid up, then said, “So. School.”

  “No, you do not have to come back and scare everybody to death again. Because Tom. I don’t like to say it in front of him, give him a big head and all, but…” She sighed. “Oh, yeh. Every fella wants to be him, and every girl basically wishes she was me. Minus the pregnancy.”

  Tom smiled, kissed her cheek, picked up the dice, and said, “Keep that in mind. December. Fiji. You and me. Don’t go falling in love with some other bloke in the meantime. I’m counting on you.”

  Marko stared at him, and Tom stared right back and said, “Mate. Seventeen and nineteen works. She can stop loving me if she wants. You don’t get to tell her to do it.” And rolled the dice.

  Ella sighed again, leaned her head against his shoulder, and said, “I like you so much. Also, give me all your money. I’ve got a hotel, and you’re out.”

  The next morning, Nyree was in the Escape with Marko and Ella again, headed to Devonport. This time, though, Tom was with them, sitting in the back seat with Ella.

  “No,” Ella had said when Marko had opened the front door for her. “I can ride in back. I’m doing way better.”

  “Humor me,” Marko had answered.

  “I’d rather…” she’d said, then broken off.

  Nyree had opened the back door for her without a word, and Ella had climbed inside. Tom had held her hand, and Ella had looked out the window at clouds and sea, at an enormous car carrier making its ponderous way along the shipping channel and the tiny Stanley Point ferry surfing the chop. Seeing, Nyree guessed, not much, and the easy lightness of the night before diminishing with every kilometer Marko drove.

  Hugh had said on the phone to Marko, “She doesn’t have to do this here unless she wants to. We’ll come there if she wants to see the boys, or she can do it with the lawyer and not see us at all.”

  Marko had answered, “She wants to. It’ll help.” And here they were, parking next to that same sign painted on the side of the dairy. “Biggest Ice Creams in Auckland!” Ella climbed out of the car, tugging down the loose blue dress she was wearing over black tights, her young girl’s body already working hard to regain its former shape, tucked her hair behind her ear, and then, instead of running her thumbs over her fingernails, took Tom’s hand.

  This time, they didn’t ring the doorbell. Instead, the door swung open, and there was Josie. Red top, skinny jeans, glamour, and gorgeousness, except for the white nappy over her shoulder.

  “Hi,” she said, then took Ella in her arms and hugged her hard. “How are you? Ready for this?”

  “Not really,” Ella said, and Josie froze as completely as if she were playing a game of Statues.

  “P-pardon?” Josie finally asked.

  Ella stepped back, tried to laugh, and said, “It’s OK. Just… feels weird. It’s hard to know how I feel. Mostly, I don’t, and then later I do. You know?”

  “Oh.” Josie put a hand out and braced herself against the wall. “Yeh. I know it must be like that.”

  “Wait,” Ella said. “Do you mean… you thought I wasn’t going to do it? Like, I was going to change my mind? No. No. I couldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t want to, and I… I couldn’t. Not after I promised.” This time, she was the one who reached for Josie, and Josie was crying. Not pretty actress tears, either, any more than before. Great, gulping sobs.

  “Sorry,” Josie gasped. “Sorry. I’m…”

  Hugh came down the passage from the back of the house. “Josie? Sweetheart?” He was holding a baby in a striped blue onesie with a blue cap on his head, and feeding him from a bottle. A baby who wasn’t as long as Hugh’s forearm, but who looked entirely comfortable there.

  “Never mind,” Josie said, trying to laugh. “I didn’t even let you get all the way inside. Sorry. I’m just…”

  “She thought I was backing out,” Ella said. Her eyes were glued to the baby. “I’m not. But… which one is that?”

  “Noah,” Hugh said. “Greedy little bugger. Amelia’s feeding Hunter. We’ve been trying to do both at the same time. Not too hard, as they wake each other up. They don’t seem to realize they’re two bodies sometimes.”

  “They’re doing… all right, then?” Ella asked.

  “They’re doing awesome,” Hugh said. “Well, not sleeping so well, but other than that. Come on back and see.”

  In the kitchen, Amelia sat on the window seat looking out on the sunny back garden, holding another baby, this one in a green onesie and cap. A baby whose hand was clutching her finger and whose eyes were staring into hers as he drank from the bottle she held.

  “He’s an old soul,” Josie said, seeing the direction of Ella’s gaze. “He knows us all.”

  “Can you tell them apart?” Ella asked. “I’m not sure I could.”

  “Yeh,” Josie said. “Somehow, I can. At first I kept their hospital bracelets on, because I was worried about it, but… yeh. They’re themselves.”

  Finally, Ella looked at the other person in the room. The woman in the red suit. “Hi,” she said. “You must be the lawyer. I’m Ella. And if you’ve got those papers ready… let’s do it.”

  She was the same girl, Marko thought, as Ella pulled out a chair and sat down beside the lawyer, who’d stood at the door of his laundry room six months ago in her school uniform and told him she was up the duff. The same one who’d perched on the edge of an unmade bed and asked him to help her call her mum. The same girl who’d crouched between the bed and the wall, her Barbie in her fist, and waited until the scary part was over.

  She wasn’t hiding anymore. She was signing her name in two places, and remembering to add the date. Nodding as the lawyer produced a second document, and signing again.

  Two forms. Two babies. A decision that would have tested the maturity and the fortitude of a woman ten years older. A hand that stayed steady, a mind that could never be anything but rational, and a heart that could break into pieces and heal again.

  A woman who kept her promises.

  The lawyer took her papers and stood up to leave, and Hugh walked her to the door. Ella put both palms on the table, took a deep breath, and said, “So. That was… surprisingly difficult.”

  “Oh, darling,” Nyree said, then sat down beside her and held her. Something Marko probably should have done.

  “I’m going to go,” Ella said as Hugh came back. “In a minute. But I thought I could give you something first, Josie. For the boys. Something that, maybe, you could give them when they’re eighteen, or whenever you think they’re ready. Maybe it could show them…” Her voice wobbled for the first time. “That I loved them.”

  “Of course,” Josie said, and Ella nodded, reached into her bag, and pulled out two little packets wrapped in white tissue.

  She unwrapped the first, which she’d marked with a D. A greenstone pendant on a braided black cord. A stylized dolphin, leaping out of the water. The second packet, then. Another pendant, this one the tail of a whale.

  “There should be something like this for Basques,” Ella said, “but there isn’t. And something for Aborigines, too, but that’s mostly inside you, I think. They’re the same, though, in heaps of ways, Maori and Basques and Aborigines, and probably Samoans, too. Living in the world, you know? Part of it, and caring about it. Seeing the stars and knowing the creatures and hearing the stories. And these seemed like the boys, to me. Like how they felt inside me, anyway. The first part of their journey.”

  She touched the dolphin with a light forefinger, tracing its curve. “This one’s for Noah. For friendship and playfulness and all his liveliness. For being the one who always kept me awake at night, letting me know he was there.”

  Her finger moved on to the whale’s tail, lingered there. “And for Hunter. For being the one who calmed his br
other down, and calmed me down, too. For family love, and for seeing people the way they are and knowing how to reach them. Maybe that’s not who they’ll turn out to be, but that’s who they felt like. And I want them to know, later, that I… knew them. That I listened. That I felt them inside, and I loved them.”

  Josie was in tears, and Nyree was, too. Amelia, still in the window seat, sat silent, her eyes going from one of them to the other. Josie said, finally, “Your pain is my joy, and it… it hurts. I wouldn’t change it. I couldn’t. But I want you to know that I realize how much love and strength this has taken. Never forget that.”

  Hugh said, “It might help, sweetheart, if you gave Ella your own gift.”

  “Oh. Oh!” Josie laughed through the tears. “I shouldn’t have hormones. I’m not the one, I know, but I’m all over the shop all the same. Laughing and crying. Wait. Here.” She went over to the kitchen bench, picked up a small white box, and put it in front of Ella. “Mine to you. Great minds, eh.”

  Ella opened the top, peeled back the cotton batting, took the thing out, and held it in her palm, cradling it as lightly and carefully as a butterfly.

  It was a closed circle carved of a beautiful piece of flower jade, the blooming gold and near-pink a creamy contrast against the deep green. A square hole near the top, and the cord wrapped there. Simple. Perfect.

  Josie sat opposite Ella, picked up the pendant, loosened the cord, and put it around the girl’s neck, then tightened the cord again until the pendant rested between Ella’s collarbones, in the hollow of her throat.

  While the sun shines, Nyree had said, I shall tie it to the front of my throat.

  “This is a porowhita,” Josie told her, her hands still on Ella’s shoulders. “The never-ending circle, reminding us that life has no beginning and no end, only the journey. The path points forward, and it stretches back. Everything you’ve given to the world lives on in it, just as everything the ancestors have given—their deeds, their words, their love—lives on in you, too. You’ll always be part of the boys, and they’ll always be part of you, and that’s all right. That’s the way it works.”

  Ella’s eyes were shining bright as hope. Strong as love. She said, “My grandmother says this. ‘We are only visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love, and then we return home.’”

  “Oh, my darling,” Josie said, “you’re so full of purpose. A whole life’s worth, and it’s all there for you. Go and be beautiful.”

  “E whiti e,” Nyree murmured.

  Josie’s smile, like a blessing. “E whiti e,” she agreed. “Shine.”

  They went back to the bach in Piha. Marko had booked it for three more nights, all the way to Sunday morning. It had been doing the trick so far, he’d figured. And like Nyree had said—when you had something good going for you, you held onto it.

  Speaking of which. He told her, when they were cooking an early dinner together, “Should be a good sunset, and some stars, too, as much as it’s cleared up. Time for us to take a walk, I reckon. It’s not Tekapo, but it’s pretty dark, and nothing out there all the way to Aussie.”

  Nyree said, “You just don’t want to lose at Monopoly again. Admit it. You hate it. I have never known a more competitive man, and I’ve known a few.”

  He laughed, gave her a swat on the bum, and said, “Aw. You love it. Sunset. Beach. You and me.”

  It was a good sunset. Correction. It was a spectacular sunset. They stood on the packed sand with the tide on the turn and gazed out at the bulk of Lion Rock, and beyond it. The sky glowed a pale blue, the clouds at the horizon lit with gold and pink, and all of it reflected in the calm water near the shore while the golden ball of the sun sank low.

  Space. Time. Peace.

  He had Nyree leaning back against his chest, his arms wrapped around her, her hands holding his forearms like she needed that as much as he did. She’d be able to feel his heart beating, and he’d swear he could feel hers.

  She said, “Do you know something?”

  “I know many things,” he said. “I know I love you, for one. What in particular, though?”

  She laughed. “Distracting, aren’t you. But I wanted to tell you this. A thing happened to me today.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “When we came home. I looked in the mirror, and I saw something.”

  “You’re not a vampire, then. Good. Never mind,” he went on hurriedly. “Tell me. What?”

  “I saw what color I am.”

  He went still. “And… what was it?”

  It shouldn’t matter. He knew who she was, and that was enough. What if she decided they didn’t match, though? He knew they didn’t match, in so many ways. He didn’t care. But she might.

  “Orange,” she said. “I should’ve figured, I guess, except that I almost never see anybody orange. Noah is, though. Hunter is pale blue, calm and clear. He’s somebody who sees more than other people.”

  “What does orange mean, then?” he asked.

  “Means… life,” she said slowly. “Vitality, I guess you’d say. Like you’ve got extra.”

  “Ah. I reckon you got it right, then. What do orange and red mean together?” The essential point. He might not want to know, but the only way to face things was head-on, and the only way to deal with pressure was to walk towards it. Today, and every day.

  “They mean,” she said, “that I’ll keep telling you to dial it back, and you’ll keep having to do it.”

  He heard the laughter in her voice, and something in him relaxed. “Sounds about right. So. Ella and Tom. What color is he?”

  “Oh, he’s green as well. They’re both green. Grounded. And I’m guessing, by the way, that you’ll see him shift teams in a year or so. I’m thinking Auckland will be too close to Josie and Hugh for her, and any place but where she is will be too far away for him. If she ends up at the University of Canterbury and he goes to play for the Crusaders… when you meet him on the field, try not to kill him, please.”

  “Haven’t killed Kane yet, have I?”

  “No. But you’ve looked like you were trying.”

  He smiled. “Nah. That’s just me. But you think they’ll last?”

  “Oh, I think so. You can say they’re young, and that a year’s a long time. But my teenage crush has lasted thirteen years now. And counting. I can’t seem to shake it.”

  “Ah. This would be a good time, then, to talk about what happens when Ella goes home. When you don’t have a reason to be in my house anymore.”

  Nyree thought, What? Marko’s arms were still strong and warm around her, and she couldn’t be wrong about what he felt. She couldn’t. He still shone that same steady red. He still felt solid as stone.

  She said, “Let’s hear what you think, and then I’ll tell you what I think.” Time to put her heart on the line. This was everything, or it was nothing. There was no spot in between that worked for her.

  He said, “Sounds like a plan.” The sun was nearly down now, the gold half-circle sending its rays to light up the clouds that much more. So beautiful it hurt. “You’ve painted two of my rooms already,” he went on. “Got your art on the walls, got your makeup on the shelf and your toothbrush next to mine. And I’ve got you in my heart, too. You’re what home is to me. When I head out the next time, and every time—I need you there to come home to, and I want to be that for you as well. I want to be your solid place, your strong place. I want you to know, whatever happens, that you won’t be alone. That you can paint, and you can try, and you can fly. Fly as high as you like. Just come back to me.”

  He’d moved, had taken his arms away and come to face her, still holding her by a hand. The sun slipped away, and on the beach, alone except for a flock of wheeling birds, Marko… didn’t. He’d never slip away. He was sinking down on a knee, pulling something out of the pocket of his jacket.

  A box.

  He said, “I should’ve done it while the sun was up so you could
see it better, but this felt right.” He smiled, then, a little lopsided, and maybe a little like something Marko never was. Scared. “Doing it in color, eh.” He flipped the box open, and, yes, there was a ring in there, and she might be having trouble breathing. A round stone cut like a star, and shining like one, too, with more diamonds set into the platinum band. “You’re a woman who’s always going to need the stars,” he said, “and I want to help you get them. I love you, baby. Will you marry me?”

  She had a hand over her mouth. “Marko. That’s a… that’s too much. That diamond.”

  He’d started to smile more, to smile for real. “Nah. I had to make it big enough for those fellas to see all the way across the café when I’m gone. If you stay there, of course, but I think you will. I think you need the people. I think you need the life.”

  “I may never…” Her hand was shaking in his. “I may never be famous, you know.”

  “Never mind. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. But I think you will. And I’m down here getting older every minute, so you know.”

  “Oh!” She had to laugh, then, and he was laughing, too. “Then—yes. Yes. Put that ring on me and get up here again. I need to kiss you. I love you. I want to marry you more than anything in the world. But I need to know one thing. What was your card of the day?”

  He was sliding the diamond on her finger, and his hand around hers felt like the safest place she’d ever been. “The King of Wands.”

  “Sounds about right. What does it mean?”

  He stood up, took her in his arms, and kissed her as the sunset glowed pink and gold, red and orange. It was cold out, but here where she stood, here with this man, she had all the warmth in the world.

  He said, “According to my mum?” and smiled. “An honorable man.”

  A few notes about Maori pronunciation:

  The accent is normally on the first syllable.

  All vowels are pronounced separately.

  All vowels except u have a short vowel sound.